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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736901">I’ll Remember You By The Scars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwraith/pseuds/Darkwraith'>Darkwraith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Diablo II, Diablo III, Heroes of the Storm (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Blood Kink, Blood licking, Emotional, F/M, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Injury, Loss of will to live, Major Character Injury, Masochism, Necromancy, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Original Character(s), Pain, Painplay, Sad, Sadism, Sexual Tension, Soul Touching, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:20:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwraith/pseuds/Darkwraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Xul the necromancer finds a dying woman and decides to save her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Necromancer/OC, Necromancer/Original Character, Xul/OC, Xul/Original Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I’ll Remember You By The Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was on the verge of death when he found her. Monsters were tearing apart her weak body. He was surprised to find somebody in a desolate place like this.</p><p>He found her already unconscious, so he couldn’t ask what she was doing in a place that was clearly too dangerous for her.</p><p>Without really thinking about it, he killed the monsters and then raised them to aid him later on. He was a necromancer after all.</p><p>He thought about raising her, too, but she wasn’t quite dead yet. He touched her with his necromantic energy, feeling for her soul, trying to find out how much time she had left. Unexpectedly, he flinched away after touching her soul. There was something wrong with it. It desperately clung to her body, despite being too shattered to possibly belong to someone still alive.</p><p>It piqued his interest.</p><p>He had to ask her how can she possibly be still alive. But unfortunately, he had no means to help her. She was barely alive and his specialty was dealing with the dead only. He had no healing magic at all.</p><p>He eyed her wounded body. Her clothes were tattered, and she was bleeding from too many wounds. There was too much blood pooling around her.</p><p>Perhaps he would have to just watch her die and then hope to raise her as a being conscious enough to speak and tell him her story.</p><p> </p><p>He set up a camp, started a fire to keep her warm. He did not need the warmth, because he was unable to feel cold anymore. It was the price he paid to become what he was. A price for toying with the death itself.</p><p>He did not feel bad for not being able to heal her. Not caring too much if she lives or dies, he just watched her with morbid curiosity, wondering if death will take her soon.</p><p>He watched her the whole night, because he didn’t need to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>She did not die in the end. She woke up in the morning. When she opened her eyes, he stared into them. Those were not the eyes of a living person. Her eyes were already dead while her body was still alive.</p><p>Her breathing was shallow. She did not seem startled by where and with who she was.</p><p>“Ah, the necromancer. You saved me? How ironic. You better go back to attending the dead and leave the living alone,” she stated coldly.</p><p>That was not what he was expecting. A few words of gratitude would be nice, considering he just saved her life. He did not comment on it though.</p><p>“What are you doing out here?” he asked and gestured around. It was a dangerous area that should be accessed only by the mightiest of the Nephalem. And this woman looked so weak that she was probably not even a Nephalem, let alone one powerful enough to roam these lands.</p><p>“<em>Dying</em>,” she stated and laughed. The laugh was menacing and sinister. He began to be even more interested who this woman was and why she was here.</p><p>“That’s not what I was asking about,” he explained as if she did not understand what he wanted to know. As if she wasn’t deliberately avoiding answering. “Why did you go to such a dangerous place?”</p><p>“To die.” She looked determined to keep her true intentions a secret, so he didn’t press the matter.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you saving those that do not wish to be saved?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.</p><p>“I… touched your soul. It’s strange. It piqued my interest,” he admitted truthfully. There was no need to lie about it. It was not like she would believe that a necromancer would selflessly save her.</p><p>“Ha? Touching unconscious women, are you? Should I be mad?” she laughed.</p><p>She was so strange. And she was avoiding talking about all the things he wanted to know.</p><p>“What were you going to do if I died?” she asked, her voice going quieter. But it did not seem like she was scared of the answer. It was probably because her wounds started to hurt more when she started speaking. To anyone but the necromancer she would be a horrifying sight, covered in blood and dirt and who knows what else. But the necromancer was used to seeing dead bodies in much worse state, dismembered, rotting, torn apart, so her state did not make him uncomfortable.</p><p>She did not wait for him to answer. “You’d make me one of your minions.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, as if she did not doubt it for a second. “You don’t have to be so kind and wait for me to die on my own. Use that pretty scythe of yours and end me here and now. I’m too weak to resist anyway. Suit yourself. But I might make a rather weak raised corpse.”</p><p>She talked about her death as if it did not concern her at all.</p><p>Once again, he thought about the state of her soul and sighed. “I don’t need your consent for that. If I wanted that, I would have done so already.”</p><p>She seemed lost in thought for a while.</p><p> </p><p>“What did they do to you?” he asked suddenly.</p><p>Her eyes widened, and her expression changed to surprised for mere seconds before going back to cold and empty.</p><p>“That is none of your concern.”</p><p>The more she resisted, the more curious he grew.</p><p>“Let me touch your soul again.” It was a strange request, but she nodded. She supposed she had to repay him somehow for saving her life. And if that was what he wants, she might as well comply.</p><p>Through her body, he reached and touched her soul. It was strangely intimate. Through the cuts and scars on her chest he felt the remains of her soul under her skin. It was weak and shattered. It was a miracle that she was still alive. He never saw a soul like that in a living human. Remains of souls like this were often in corpses he raised.</p><p>The damage couldn’t have been done by the monsters that torn her body. That’s not how it works. This is damage done by other kinds of monsters, those that wear human skin as a disguise. </p><p>He was fascinated. The shattered pieces of her soul were slipping through his fingers like sand. He wondered if she knows that he has the ability to tear the soul away from her body and kill her just like that.</p><p>He’s tempted.</p><p>Until he hears her moan softly. It is the strangest sound, choked, almost inaudible.</p><p>“Do it,” she whispered, “end my suffering.”</p><p>So she knows. She’s aware that her life is on his fingertips, and can be ended in a second. She does not resist. It’s tantalizing. He withdraws his hand before he does something he would regret.</p><p>“Do not tempt me like that,” he whispers. He is a necromancer and his duty is to preserve the balance. He must not take lives on a whim, no matter how tempting it is.</p><p>“I am not tempting. I am offering,” she explains.</p><p>As if it was not her very life she was offering to throw away for seemingly no reason.</p><p>“If you want to die that much, do it yourself,” he says coldly.</p><p> </p><p>They stay silent after that. She looks like she’s seriously considering it.</p><p>“Then hand me the pretty scythe you wield and I will end myself.” There’s no emotion behind those words. No desperation. Just cold calmness.</p><p><em>Just how did she end up like this</em>, he wonders. He thinks for a while about what he should reply. And then he simply says: “No.”</p><p>She does not look disappointed, and she does not look like those words stirred any emotions within her. In a way, she looks more dead that the skeletons he raises.</p><p>“Then teach me how to be a necromancer,” she says suddenly.</p><p>“Also not.” A flash of sadness appears on her face.</p><p>“Then why did you save me?” she raises her voice. “Did you want to help me? Or did you wanted to watch me suffer?”</p><p>He’s indifferent to her words. Never in his life he cared about saving anyone, much less cared even in the slightest about someone's suffering. He was simply curious about her. That’s all there was to it.</p><p>“…” She looks angry. “Won’t you even answer the questions of the person whose life you just saved?”</p><p>“I would if she would be so kind and thank me for saving her life,” he chuckles.</p><p>She looks even angrier.</p><p>“You… you…” She pauses. Then smiles. Calms down. “You’re unbelievable.”</p><p>She still does not thank him, remaining silent for the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p>At night, something seems to awaken within her. Her eyes light up as the sun dies down. Monsters roaming these lands surround them and get closer.</p><p>The necromancer fights them off with his army of skeletons and raises more from the fresh corpses.</p><p>He expects to scare and disgust the young woman. It does the opposite. She stares at him while his minions fight for him.</p><p><em>How majestic</em>, she thinks as he rips corpses apart with his dark magic.</p><p><em>How is she not scared?</em> He thinks as he uses his magic that scares and terrifies all the humans that ever saw him use it.</p><p>“Hey, necromancer, I want to learn more about your powers. I can do that at least right? Even if you’re not willing to teach me this magic? Will you tell me about it at least?” she asks.</p><p>“I will not,” he replies and instantly he regrets how cold he sounds. Her fascination with his magic makes him a bit uncomfortable. He wonders what could have possibly happened to her to make her like this. A young maiden such as she should not be watching the dark magic he performs, much less be interested in it in such a way.</p><p>He can’t say it doesn’t feel a bit good though.</p><p>During his years of performing the dark art of necromancy he faced much rejection and many people he considered close looked down on him because of the path he chose.</p><p>To see someone so interested, seemingly enjoying looking and what he does, leaves him feeling somewhat good indeed.</p><p>He got used to living in isolation, surrounded by moving corpses. The coldness of this path numbed him to a great extent, but he’s still alive, he still has some flickering remains of feelings left in his heart. Feelings he tried to bury and mostly succeeded. Feeling that are beginning to come to surface now.</p><p><em>Damn this woman and her curiosity</em>, he thinks.</p><p>“Then touch my soul again,” she says, smiling as if it was the most casual thing to do.</p><p>“That, I will also not do,” he exclaims. <em>Just what is she thinking?</em> He wonders. Touching someone’s soul is not a casual thing to do. It requires great caution because the slightest wrong touch could hurt it beyond repair or even tear it out of one’s body, killing them at once.</p><p><em>Then again</em>, he thinks, <em>her soul is already shattered. I can’t really do it any harm.</em></p><p>He leans closer and wonders how did she gain enough power over him to make him act against his own belief. She must never know how much power she has over him or it will be the end of him.</p><p>He leans as close to her as he can without touching her. Her eyes are drawing him in, and he can’t resist.</p><p>Those dead eyes of her will be the end of him. They won’t change despite how close he moved. Her breathing does not speed up. Her heartbeat is also slow. As if she’s not at all affected how close he is, how his body is almost pressed against hers.</p><p>He wonders what she’s thinking about but dares not to ask.</p><p><em>Is he not disgusted by my broken body full of wounds and scars?</em> She thinks<em>. He will be the end of me</em>, she also thinks.</p><p> </p><p>She does not dare to expect a kiss despite how close he is. This is a different kind of intimacy than anything she experienced in her whole life.</p><p>She throws her head backwards to lay down fully on the ground. He leans closer, their faces mere inches apart.</p><p>She dares not to raise her head and kiss him despite feeling tempted to do so. She dares not to disturb a moment of closeness such as this. This is not about the desires of the body. This is about his dark curiosity about her broken soul. She dares not to move, afraid he will go away.</p><p>She stares into his eyes while she feels his fingers tracing her wounds and scars. Not daring to flinch away when he presses his fingers into her fresh wounds on impulse.</p><p>He has no idea what made him do that. He can’t stop though, fascinated by her features that are empty, unmoving, but showing the barest hint of arousal.</p><p>“Don’t,” she moans.</p><p>It makes him press his fingers deeper into the wound on her chest inflicted by claws of some vicious beast.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” she <em>moans</em> as he presses his fingers deep enough into the slash to draw fresh blood from the healing, scabbed wound.</p><p><em>That is not how someone should react to being hurt,</em> the necromancer thinks.</p><p>However, he can’t bring himself to stop, seeing the woman under him breathing rapidly, hearing her heartbeat speed up.</p><p>It stirs something in him, something he can’t name.</p><p>It makes him press his body against hers and finally reach to touch her soul. Touching is not enough. He tugs on it, threatening to pull it from her body and leave her dead.</p><p>She still fucking <em>moans</em> through it.</p><p>Maybe she’s insane. Maybe she’s just broken beyond repair, seeking salvation where there none should ever seek it.</p><p>“Do you want to die that badly?” he asks while licking the fresh blood off her chest.</p><p>“I do not want to die,” she explains. “It’s just that this feels, so, so…” she can’t find words to finish the sentence. He bites down on her neck, leaving her speechless. She half expects him to bite at her throat deep enough to kill her, but he barely even draws blood.</p><p>“<em>So good,”</em> she moans, and he wonders how can someone enjoy such treatment. He does not ask though. He knows better than to ask. “<em>Hurt me more</em>,” she moans. This is new to her. She never ever begged anyone for something like this. It feels like such a strange thing to ask for. But he’s not revolted by her strange request. It’s quite the contrary.</p><p>He reaches for his scythe and presses it against her neck.</p><p>There’s still not the slightest hint of fear on her face.</p><p>He presses down, gently, just to draw a few tiny droplets of blood.</p><p>Her eyes roll back in pleasure.</p><p>He thinks about how wrong and twisted it is, but he’s beyond caring about that. He stopped questioning these things since he chose a dark and twisted path for himself.</p><p>“Your life is in my hands,” he whispers as if it wasn’t obvious.</p><p>“My hand could slip and you would bleed to death right here under me.”</p><p>She does not seem to care. Her empty eyes stare at him, full of expectations. She seems unfazed by the thought of dying right here and now, under him.</p><p>He briefly thinks if it’s wrong to play with her life like that. Maybe she would hate him for wanting to drown in her hot, sweet blood.</p><p>He decides that she would not care in the slightest if he decided to end her life and do whatever he wanted to her dead body.</p><p>However tempting it is, he’s frightened to admit that he grew fond of her, wanting to keep her company more than wanting to ruin her body and twist it with his dark magic.</p><p>The night ends with fresh cuts and bruises all over her body, nothing more, nothing less.</p><p> </p><p>In the morning, she clings to his body, hugging him as she falls asleep. She looks so vulnerable when she closes her eyes and her features soften. “You feel so cold,” she murmurs before falling asleep as if she did not care about the fact.</p><p> </p><p>He allows her to accompany him on his adventures for a while as he grows bolder with his violence against her.</p><p>She allows anything he wants to try, never flinching away, never making a sound as he cuts her flesh, making more and more scars on her already scarred body.</p><p>He can only tell that she enjoys it by listening to her soft moans that are inaudible unless he moves close to her face. Close enough to kiss her but having no intention of doing so.</p><p>She trembles under his fingers, trying to move closer, desperately wishing to press against his body.</p><p>He’s fully aware what he’s doing to her and how turned on she is. He can tell by her breathing and heartbeat. However, he makes no move to acknowledge it and to satisfy her other needs aside from the need to be hurt and destroyed.</p><p>She never acts on her desires. She’s pliant under him, allowing him to do anything he wants, but never daring to ask for more.</p><p> </p><p>“Our time is up,” he simply says one day.</p><p>She’s silent. For the first time, he sees pain, true pain contorting her face.</p><p>And he realizes that by doing this, he is going to hurt her more that his scythe ever could while carving into her flesh.</p><p>He knows her like the back of his palm. She won’t beg for him to not leave her.</p><p>He also knows that she won’t ever know that he’s doing this for her, because he has grown bolder, cutting her more and more dangerously.</p><p>He’s become a threat to her life.</p><p>And he can’t allow such a fascinating creature to perish under his fingers.</p><p>“Live,” he says, hoping it will be enough to explain, but it’s not, of course it’s not.</p><p> </p><p>She trusted him, allowing him to do anything he wished, and he wants to give her back her life- it’s her life to live, and he has no right to toy with it, to reach her body with his dark energies and bring her close to death only to bring her back- it’s torture, and no person should ever endure it, no matter if they consent to it or not.</p><p>He knows her well, and he knows she won’t beg and make a scene.</p><p>“Very well,” she says calmly. “I’ll remember you by the scars you graced me with.” And it’s her way of saying that she will never forget, and that she will always wait for him to find her again and fulfill all she ever desired for, but of course he does not know that from just a few words, of course he does not understand.</p><p>She turns away and leaves without sparing him another look.</p><p>And he admires her for it.</p><p>He knows all too well that she loves him despite her never saying it aloud. He has seen it in her dead eyes that were alive with light for a few scarce moments.</p><p>And he knows all too well that he can never love her back, because of the dark path he chose; he let go of thoughts about love and happiness the second that he embraced the energies of death and darkness to taint both his body and mind.</p><p>He knows all too well that he will never meet anyone like her, fascinated by his darkness, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.</p><p>It’s better that way.</p><p> </p><p>She deserves more than death and destruction he has to offer.</p><p>Even though she never desired anything more than him.</p><p>He wants to scream as he watches her leave.</p><p>Wants to scream and beg her to stay with him even when he was the one that sent her away.</p><p>In the end, he stays silent and watches her disappear and wonders why he never even asked for her name and never told her his.</p><p>He can never find her again in a world such vast and dangerous.</p><p>He needs to accept it and refuses to run to her and stop her from leaving.</p><p> </p><p>Her figure disappears in a few minutes.</p><p>She did not look back even once.</p><p>They both knew that if she did, she would run back and never find strength to leave again.</p><p>He wanted to fix her. She left more broken than she was when he found her.</p><p>But it’s okay. He knows that she won’t ever need to be saved by anyone again. Never again will she toy with her life and face grave danger. She will live now.</p><p> </p><p>She will live for him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, if you liked this, you can follow me on Twitter @abysswalker_a</p></blockquote></div></div>
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